


My Heart On My Sleeve, Your Name On My Hip

by LavenderWater



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: A lot of sappiness, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Barebacking, Birthday, Bottom Even Bech Næsheim, Boy Squad, Fluff, Jonas is the best bro, M/M, Magnus being Magnus, Mentions of Valentine's Day, Riding, Rimming, Shotgunning, Talk of Parallel Universes, Tattoos, Top Isak Valtersen, their love is legendary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 13:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderWater/pseuds/LavenderWater
Summary: For Even's birthday, Isak decides to get his boyfriend's name tattooed on his hip. It's meant to be a surprise, little does he know that Even has a surprise of his own.Or: the birthday fic that should have been posted months ago but life got in the way so it's finally getting posted now





	My Heart On My Sleeve, Your Name On My Hip

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I started this back in January thinking I'd be able to get it done and posted for Even's actual birthday, but that obviously didn't happen. Then I thought, well I'll post it a few days late. Next thing I know it's June and I'm just finally getting finished with writing it. I'm kind of happy with how this turned out and put too much time into it to just let it die in my folders, so I'm just going to pretend it's February 12th again. So, happy birthday Even!! You're a ray of sunshine who deserves the world. 
> 
> Seriously, this thing is like the baby bird with a broken wing I nurtured back to health and am now setting it free in the wild. I hope you enjoy it. <3

The guy in front of Isak is doing an excellent job of making him feel 0% better. He’s milling around the room, randomly grabbing the necessary supplies in no particular order and placing them on the small metal rolling tray that’s position beside the chair Isak is supposed to be leaning back in relaxing. Instead, Isak is perched on the edge of the vinyl cushion, t-shirt off and twisted between his shaking hands as he watches the man work with wary eyes. When he pulls a pair of black latex gloves from a drawer and slaps them down on the tray with an audible smack, Isak has to actively swallow the bile threatening to rise in his throat. 

“Hey,” the guy says, patting his hand against Isak’s thigh to pull his attention back onto him and effectively making Isak jump out of his skin, “I’m gonna step into the other room and grab another bottle of antiseptic. We’ll start when I get back. What I need from you is to lie on your back and pull your jeans and underwear down enough for me to have full access to the area. And relax man,” he laughs slightly, pulling his hand back and placing it on his hip, “It’s not that bad, I promise. You’ll barley feel it. I’m very gentle.” He winks at him and then leaves the little room in his quest to find whatever the fuck it was he said he was grabbing. At this point, Isak’s too nervous to even remember the guy’s name, and he’s pretty sure he’s told him at least five times in the last two weeks. Not to mention the introduction he was gracious enough to give again today when he showed up for the appointment. 

Yeah, just relax. Relax his ass. He wishes Even were here, holding his hand, whispering soothing words meant only for him in his ear. He’s always able to calm him down whenever he gets a little too panicked, but Even being here would kind of defeat the point since he’s not supposed to know about this. At least not yet anyway. So, he’s here by himself, getting ready to unbutton his jeans and expose his skin to some stranger who, for some weird reason, smells like pumpkin spice despite the fact that it’s February. 

He’s not actually by himself, of course. Other than the middle-aged man about to permanently alter his flesh with a fucking needle, the boys are also in the room, dicking around with various things laying around. They had insisted on coming with him, and despite his adamant declarations that he would be fine and didn’t need them there to coddle him through this, he had found them sitting on the curb outside of his apartment waiting for him when he had finally dragged himself away from Even to take off for his appointment. If he hadn’t pushing for time, he would’ve taken them on a wild goose chase and lost them before he reached the tattoo parlor. Not that that would have worked, though, considering Mahdi was the one who recommended the place to him much to everyone’s surprise. Out of all of them, Isak would’ve guessed Magnus would be the one to have a tattoo, preferably something embarrassing and most likely resulting from a lost bet, but alas, it was Mahdi with a small orange and black butterfly over his heart in honor of his little sister. 

“You doing ok, bro?” Jonas questions, coming out of the corner and leaning against the chair beside Isak, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and giving him a side hug. 

“Oh yeah, I’m doing great. In fact, I can’t think of a time when I’ve been better.” He was aiming for casual and maybe a little snarky, but he sounds a little breathless and his voice cracks about halfway through the statement when his eyes land on the machine looming next to him, making him miss the mark by a mile. 

“It’s not that bad. Like he said, he does it really well. I barley felt more than a pinch,” Mahdi says, glancing at him briefly before returning his gaze to the little battle he’s engaged in with Magnus, brandishing one of the abandoned piercing needles from the counter like a sword and dueling Magnus with an air of seriousness that’s a little over the top for where they are and what they’re doing. Isak prays they don’t get kicked out before he has the chance to get this done. 

“Speaking of what he said,” Jonas interjects, glancing at the doorway and pitching his voice lower so he won’t be overheard, “why does everything he say sound like he’s prepping to direct a porno of Isak losing his virginity?” 

“Thank you!” Isak exclaims, holding his hand out at Jonas and looking at the other two with raised eyebrows, silently asking for their appraisals. He knew there was something off about the way he was talking, he just hadn’t been able to put his finger on what it was exactly. Now that Jonas mentioned it, he can see how everything the guy’s said had a hint of innuendo and ambiguity to it.

It brings back memories of how Even had talked to him while setting up his camera and tripod next to their bed for the first time, gentle and slightly hesitant, praising Isak while also making sure that he was comfortable and completely ok with Even filming them. As the presence of the camera became more and more common, the words Even uttered became dirtier and dirtier while still retaining that air of love and gentleness. Isak really needs to get his thoughts out of the gutter before he pops a boner and has to sit with it while this guy hovers near his crotch. 

“I know right!” Magnus proclaims, voice at regular volume so it travels through the little room and probably into the rest of the shop for the tattoo artist to hear as well. “I thought it was just me, but he is totally talking like that. Dude, you can’t do that, it’s cheating,” he loses focus, trailing off to explain the rules of fake-needle-sword-fights to Mahdi. 

“First, that move is totally legal and was used in duels throughout history. You’re not the only one who Even explains facts to while watching movies. Secondly,” he says, directing this towards Isak and Jonas who are watching the pair in dumbfounded amusement, “That’s just the way Erik talks. You get used to it eventually.” 

And that’s just great. That means that this guy- Erik apparently- will be continuing to inadvertently drop sexual innuendos for the next hour or two. He wishes they could become as oblivious to it as Erik apparently is. 

Magnus gives voice to Isak’s thoughts, “Well, I don’t think I can get used to it. I feel offended for Even.”

Isak gapes at him, but of course he’s not looking at him, so he turns his outraged expression to Jonas who just starts laughing at him. Fucker. “You feel offended for Even? Seriously? What about me?” he asks.

“What about you?” Magnus replies offhandedly, only denoting minimal brain function to the real situation, the majority- what little there is of it Isak thinks- is still focused on dicking around with Mahdi. “You can feel outraged for yourself, but Even doesn’t even know that some tattoo guy is trying to steal his job.”

Isak scoffs. “And what job would that be exactly?”

“Directing you in a porno,” Magnus, Mahdi, and Jonas say at the same time, pausing for a moment to look at each other in glee, Jonas pointing at the other two in the corner with wide eyes and his mouth open in pleased shock, before they all start cackling loudly. 

Isak immediately flushes, opening his mouth to defend himself, fully intent on telling the boys they can piss right the fuck off, when Erik enters the room again holding several items in one hand and closing the door with the other. “Obviously, I missed something very entertaining,” Erik says, placing the supplies down on the table and pulling his chair over to where Isak’s sitting. 

“Just my friends being idiots,” Isak quickly responds before anyone else can get a word in to- God forbid- explain why they were all laughing like loons.

“Oh, I know plenty about that,” Erik chuckles, sliding on the black gloves and doing something with the bottles of ink. “I need you to get in position for me now,” he says, nodding his head towards where Isak’s pants are still sitting buttoned on his hips. 

“Right,” Isak says, drawing the word out in a skeptical manner and glancing at the boys with raised eyebrows because did he seriously just tell him to get into position for him. Isak might not be the best with words, but he’s about 99% sure that there’s a plethora of other ways he could have phrased that request. 

Still, Isak complies, unbuttoning his skinny jeans and hooking his fingers under the denim and elastic of his boxers, pulling both down to expose the v of his hips and the little trail of hair to the cold air. The goosebumps that instantly litter his skin are only partially due to the chill, the other half is because of the nerves rushing through his system. He had calmed down while messing around with the boys but now that Erik is back and seconds away from puncturing his hip with a small needle, dying it a permanent shade of blue, he’s back to feeling like his body is vibrating faster than the atmosphere around him. The chances of him throwing up or having a heart attack are increasing with each passing second. 

“This might be cold,” Erik warns before disinfecting the portion of Isak’s hip where the tattoo is going to go. 

He’s wrong. It’s not cold, it’s fucking freezing, and Isak is seriously starting to contemplate the consequences of jumping up and rushing out the door, never looking back again. Seriously, he could always do something else for Even’s birthday. Sure, there’s probably not enough time to order what he was originally going to gift his beautiful boyfriend with, but he could always buy him something for his camera or another hoodie or something like that. Hell, at this point he would even be willing to discuss naked Twister as a birthday present. 

But then there’s a hand on his shoulder grounding him. He opens his eyes and finds Jonas has moved to his other side, opposite of Erik, and is giving him an encouraging smile. His eyes are shining with compassion and encouragement, offering silent support like he always does when he senses Isak is in distress. Since Isak and Even got together, the burden on Jonas had slackened, but sometimes Jonas is still the person Isak needs. He’s even starting to believe that maybe he isn’t a burden afterall. 

“Ready?” Erik asks once everything is prepped, kicking the machine on, needle poised over Isak’s pale skin. 

Glancing to his right over Erik’s shoulder, he can see Magnus and Mahdi paying a little more attention, having finally put down their makeshift weapons. Magnus is toying with his phone as they move closer, both smiling, and for one agonizing second Isak thinks he’s about to set up his camera to film this. But instead of holding the phone up to Isak’s face, he sets it down again on the counter with the volume turned up and some ridiculous song from a new show Magnus is obsessed with starts playing through the speakers. Isak is so fucking glad that the boys were stubborn enough to follow him here. 

He takes one last look at the boys in turn before making eye contact with Erik and nodding his head. As the needle begins moving on his skin, he grabs Jonas’ hand that’s still on his shoulder and throws the shirt that’s still clutched tightly in his other hand over his eyes. 

It’s actually one of Even’s shirts from before they met. An old NWA concert tee from a festival he had went to while things were still going good at Bakka. Isak had grabbed this shirt specifically when he had gotten dressed that morning because in addition to being comfy, Even tended to wear it a lot, which meant that it smelled like him. Breathing deeply through his nose now- attempting to ignore the prickling sensation at his hip- he savors the scent of his boyfriend. Even might not be there physically, but he’s always with Isak. The shirt just serves as a tangible reminder for the next hour and a half. 

**

This wasn't the plan originally. The original plan had come into being at kollektiv on a random Friday night in November when Isak and Even had went over to watch a movie with Eskild, who had been a little down since Elias had left with Mikael to visit Yousef in Turkey. They were only scheduled to be gone two weeks, but it was the first time the couple had been separated since they got together at the end of June and it seemed like neither one was doing particularly well.

Isak knew how terrible it felt to be separated from your boyfriend -even if it was only for a short period of time like when Even left for a weekend trip with his parents while Isak stayed home to study for finals, fucking Biology. Having a boyfriend who is actually deserving of him and loves him and puts just as much in the relationship as him is new to Eskild, so Isak decided they could all spend the evening together to take his mind off of the fact that Elias wasn’t scheduled to return to Oslo for three more days. 

When they arrived, however, it became evident that he wasn’t the only one struck by the idea. The girls were all gathered around Eskild in the living room watching some modeling show and debating the merits of completely changing the model’s appearance in order to better sell something. Instead of getting the hell out of there before they were noticed- like Isak was tempted to do- they stayed and joined the conversation. 

As the evening wore on, everyone broke off into their own conversations. When Isak finally pulled his attention away from bitching about the special kind of hell reserved to applying for university with Eva, he found Even huddled at the end of the sofa with Vilde talking about a new Taylor Swift song. Normally, he would just roll his eyes and strike up a conversation with Sana in which he could surreptitiously get her to agree to let him borrow her notes for the upcoming exam, but then he heard something that caught his attention and got him thinking. 

Apparently, the new song had some lyric about wearing a boyfriend’s initial on a chain around her neck. And apparently Even thought the concept was symbolic and beautiful in that it went beyond just a mindless ‘this is my property’ situation. No, he was saying something about being on the same page with the person, knowing them profoundly to the point where they were part of each other, practically inseparable. 

While the fact that this arose from a Taylor Swift song was a bit of mindfuck to him, Isak found himself listening intently. It reminded him of a movie Even had taken him to see where the couple had called each other by the other’s name. A movie that totally didn’t make Isak cry or spend the rest of the night reading the book online. 

Before Even, Isak scoffed at this kind of sentiment because it was ridiculous to think this kind of love was something real, something that anyone could stumble upon and hold onto in the real world. Now, going on the beginning of their second year together, Isak doesn’t find the idea so absurd anymore. He believes that he and Even have that type of love, and with Christmas fast approaching he started fantasizing about finding the perfect necklace chain and E initial that he could wear as a gift. He could probably even find one for Even with an I if he searched hard enough. 

It was just the right amount of sappy for them, so Isak began scouring the internet for custom jewelry shops the next day while Even was at work, which he thought would be easy because how many places and designs could there possibly be. The answer surprisingly- and frustratingly- was a god damn lot apparently. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of chains and pendants of varying color, style, material, size, and other things that made Isak’s head hurt because he was looking at necklace chains not machines to perform brain surgery for crying out loud. 

By the time he thinks he’s found the perfect set, it’s three days till Christmas, essentially meaning there isn’t a snowballs chance in hell that he’ll be able to order the necklaces, have them shipped to the apartment, and wrapped under the tree. There was just no way, and he’d spent all of his time and energy on this one gift because apparently he couldn’t be assed to buy his boyfriend anything else since this was such a perfect plan. Seriously, Even would’ve taken one look at the initials dangling from the chains, latched it around his neck to never be removed again, and popped a boner. It would have hit all of his kinks, unlike the leather camera and tripod case wrapped in silver, mocking him from their spot under their tiny tree in the corner. 

Of course, Even had loved the gift. Every time a project for one of his film studies courses required the students to bring their own equipment Even would proudly pull his leather case from the closet and then proceed to brag about not only it but about his boyfriend to all of his classmates. Seriously, practically everyone in his class could supply at least one fun fact about Isak with an ease that someone who had never met him really shouldn’t be able to accomplish. 

That didn’t stop Isak from dwelling on the past, lamenting the perfect gift that ‘got away’ so to speak. The idea gets resurrected at a pregame that Even missed due to work. A pregame during which a drunk Isak, in order to fill the silence, began rambling about his idea and the beautiful possibility of giving it to Even for his birthday. 

“I don’t know, dude,” Jonas had replied, an intense look of concentration on his face as he flicked his thumb against his lighter, “That sounds like something you would give your boyfriend in middle school, or like something Taylor Swift would put in a song lyric.” 

“Did you not hear the part at the beginning where he literally stated that’s where the idea came from?” Mahdi asked offhandedly, taking a drag from the finally lit joint Jonas passed him. “But seriously, bro, Even would adore anything you got him, whatever it may be. However, I might suggest something a little more serious, you know. Something that says we’ve been together for going on two years now.”

“Like a tattoo!” Magnus gasped, flailing his arms excitedly. “Even would love that! No, dude seriously, you could get ‘Evak’ tattooed on your ass or something.” Sometimes Magnus’ interest in their relationship concerns Isak. He’s pretty sure that if he didn’t exist, nobody would love Even more than Magnus. 

Before Isak could respond with a determined “no,” Mahdi started shaking his head, brushing the idea aside. “Nei, Magnus. That’s a terrible idea.”

“Besides,” Jonas added, spreading out on Isak and Even’s bed, his feet worming underneath their pillows to soak up some warmth, “Isak doesn’t do needles. Remember last year at the blood drive? He almost passed out at the mere mention of sticking the needle in his arm.”

“Oi!” Isak exclaimed from his spot on the floor. How he always ended up as one the people forced to sit on the floor in the limited space never ceased to amaze him. Seriously, it’s his apartment. There should be some predetermined law that says the person who owns the place gets first dibs at sitting on the actual furniture. “I’m sitting right here. And I am not afraid of needles. It’s a reasonable response considering how many diseases and infections can spread through them.” 

“Like what?” Jonas scoffed, “They sterilize that shit for germaphobes like you who actively research obscure illnesses that aren’t even in this country just to paranoia yourself.”

“Excuse you,” Isak had declared, rolling over to his stomach to better glare daggers at his best friend, “I am not just googling diseases for fucking funsies. I’m studying for classes, something you guys would know nothing about.”

The conversation had slowly digressed from there until Even returned home from work and found the four boys practically lying on top of each other on the bed fast asleep. Magnus snoring obnoxiously with two different elbows digging into his back and Isak’s nose smushed against Jonas’ neck, his foot underneath Mahdi’s thighs.

But the drunken suggestion had stuck with Isak until he had given in a few nights later and pulled out his phone, the brightness turned down to almost nonexistent to not disturb his boyfriend sleeping peacefully on his chest, and searched for facts about tattoos. Threading his fingers through Even’s hair to soothe him when he became a little restless and whimpered in his sleep, Isak contemplated the mechanics of actually getting a tattoo. He imagined himself walking into a parlor and handing a design to a stranger for them to permanently etch into his skin. While the thought of needles typically makes him nervous due to witnessing too many IVs and sedatives being administered to his mother, he had found himself calm, almost transcendent in his contemplations. Something about it felt right, especially when he added the aspect of what the tattoo would be and where he would get it. 

A week later, after much research and a stellar recommendation from Mahdi, Isak had an appointment scheduled with a local tattoo artist for the week before Even’s birthday, which brings him to the present where he’s currently trying to remember to breathe and clinging to the narration Jonas is whispering to him about the progress of the tattoo and how much longer it is likely to be until it’s finished. He’s not a particularly religious person, but he finds himself praying that his best friend’s estimations are correct. Jonas has never steered him wrong before, so for it to happen now of all times would be a huge slap in the face. 

“Alright,” Erik drawls as the buzzing of the machine slowly fades, “You’re all done. I just need to wipe you off and clean you up a little but the hard part’s over.” 

The boys share an incredulous look at Erik's choice of words as he cleans the freshly inked skin, making Isak wince slightly, skin tender and raw. "Well," he says, placing his tools down on the metal tray and pulling his gloves off, "I don't want to toot my own horn, but I'd say I made you look even better than before."

"Thanks," Isak says, drawing out the word like a question and glancing at Jonas with raised eyebrows. Screw this guy, Isak was a masterpiece before this guy got his hands on him. 

“No problem. You took it like a champ; did really good for me,” he replies, taking oblivious and creepy to a whole new level and making Jonas inch closer like he’s trying to physically shield Isak from him now that it’s no longer imperative for this guy to be touching his best friend.

“So, we’re done here, right?” Jonas asks, sounding antsy like he’s ready to jump ship. To be fair so is Isak, and by the looks of it Magnus and Mahdi reached that point a long time ago as well. 

Erik nods curtly and grunts, which is as good of a yes as anything Isak supposes. “You paid before we started, so if you’re happy with how things look, then I’ll leave you to put your clothes back on. Just remember to keep it clean, though you’ll want to avoid getting it wet for the rest of the day at least, and apply lotion often.”

“Clean, dry, lotion. Got it,” Isak says with a salute, excusing the man from the room so he can look at his tattoo for the first time in peace. 

Maybe it’s the content of the tattoo or where it’s placed on his body, but suddenly he feels extremely self-conscious. This feels like something he should be doing at home with Even, in the quiet and dark of their bedroom while wrapped up in the comfort of their familiar blue-grey duvet that smells like an apple breeze- whatever the fuck that is. He’s starting to consider the merits of just blinding pulling his pants back up and putting his shirt on to cover the abused skin until he gets home, but the boys beat him to the punch, all gathering in close to peer at the tattoo. And, sure, he had been considering postponing the big reveal to himself, but that doesn’t mean he appreciates everyone obstructing his view with their heads, especially when they’re so close to his crotch for God’s sake. 

“It looks really good, Isak,” Mahdi appraises. 

“Yeah, it does,” Jonas agrees. “You have to admit, for a lowkey creep, dude knows what he’s doing.” 

“I don’t get it,” Magnus says, lifting his head to stare at Isak, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. 

“What’s there to get?” Isak asks, hoping something didn’t get drastically messed up to make it look indecipherable or something. He leans up and swats the boys out of his way, taking a big breath before looking down and facing the moment of truth. 

His words die in his throat at the sight. There, sitting on his left hip in vibrant blue ink is Even’s name, written in his boyfriend’s capital, block-like scrawl. Isak had ripped the bottom portion off a letter from Even and brought his signature to serve as a template for the tattoo. It was perfect, not only was Even’s name officially on his hip but it was in his boyfriend’s own handwriting. The blue is nowhere near as beautiful and breathtaking as the eyes that inspired the color choice, but it’s still gorgeous; and dangling from the final line of the ‘n’ is the last-minute addition Isak had drawn in when he first arrived at the shop this morning- a drop of water, the outside lined with the same blue as the rest of the tattoo while the interior is shaded in with a much lighter, contrasting blue. Overall, it’s better than Isak had imagined, and if he knew his boyfriend- and he did- then his boy is going to cry when he sees it. As it is, Isak’s eyes are beginning to itch. He lightly traces his finger over the skin around the border of the clear wrapping covering the freshly-inked and angry looking skin. Before he gets home he’ll have to cover it with something less transparent so Even doesn’t see it too early and ruin the surprise. 

“What’s with the tear drop?” Magnus barrels on, completely oblivious to Isak having a fucking moment thank you very much. “I know my man Even doesn’t make you cry, so is it like a kink thing? Is he like so good in bed that he makes you cry?”

“First of all,” Isak says, buttoning his jeans and wincing slightly at the scratch of the fabric, he should’ve had the foresight to wear sweatpants, “it’s not a tear drop. It’s a drop of water. Secondly, it’s not for you to get. It’s for me and Even, and Even’ll know exactly what it means. And thirdly,” he says, hopping off the chair and making his way to the door, “yes, Magnus, Even is that good in bed.”

**

When Isak opens the door and sidles back into their apartment, he’s almost knocked over by the humidity swirling in the air, especially after just coming back in from a brisk walk from the tram stop after parting with the boys. Closing the door, and thus trapping the ridiculous amount of steam in their tiny flat, he toes his shoes off and hangs up his coat and scarf before following the source of the heat and the deep voice that’s currently singing.

If he thought the humidity was bad in the entry hall, it’s nothing compared to the inside of the bathroom. The mirror is completely fogged up, like he can’t even make out an outline of his silhouette in the damn thing, and there’s clouds of steam rolling over the top of the shower curtain, curling up against the ceiling until it runs out of room in the tiny space and seeps out the bathroom door. Isak wonders just how long Even’s been in the shower to acquire this much condensation. 

Pulling the contents from his shopping bag, Isak places the lotion he bought to apply to his tattoo on the counter. Erik had given him a small tube before he left the shop but it somehow made him feel weird to think about using it, and he didn’t want to use their Even-proclaimed ‘sexy lotion’ for the job either. So, he stopped in at the drug store before coming home and bought the first inoffensive looking bottle. The last thing he needed was to buy lotion depicting a massage on the label. He’d never hear the end of that. 

At the sound of the bag rustling as Isak throws it in the small trash can by the toilet, the singing in the shower abruptly stops, leaving way for an awkward silence during which Isak just knows that Even’s weighing his options of investigating the noise or pretending that he’s not hidden behind the flimsy shower curtain. Isak hops up on the counter beside the sink and watches the shower as he patiently waits for his boy to make his decision. 

He only has to wait another minute before Even’s tentative voice asks in a half whisper, “Baby?”

“Yeah?” he calls back happily, listening as Even lets out an audible sigh at the sound of his voice. He can picture him standing under the hot water, dripping wet, eyes closed, hand placed over his racing heart as he tries to calm himself down from the moment of panic. 

Not many people are aware of Even’s shower phobia. It’s not that he’s afraid of the shower itself, but rather it’s the possibility of what’s occurring outside of the shower that sets him on edge. The sound of the water cuts above the noise signaling anything strange happening in the outside rooms, and the shower curtain blocks the vital warning view that an intruder may have entered the room. The point is it’s very easy to get ambushed and murdered in the middle of the shower and then there you are lying in a pool of bloody water, completely naked for the world to see.

Isak had been completely shocked when Even had originally told him all about this, laying everything out in intricate detail so that the next time Isak had taken a shower he found himself pulling the curtain back every few minutes to glance around the room. Just to be on the safe side. This hadn’t been a problem in their apartment until a few weeks ago, though, when during a pre-game someone had drunkenly staggered into their clear plastic shower curtain and tore the damn thing down, ripping it so that it was irreparable. In a cruel twist of fate, there were no more clear shower curtains when they went to buy a replacement the next day. Instead, all that was left on the shelf wide enough to fit their shower was one that was a dark yellow. 

Besides providing them with self-defense against potential intruders, the old curtain used to let Isak watch Even in the shower over his shoulder in the mirror while he was getting ready for school, or when he was sitting on the counter. Like he is now, completely unable to see his hot, naked boyfriend. It’s unfair, and Isak finds himself once again cursing the fucker who decided to ruin his bathroom and his perfect view all in one fatal blow. God, he misses the old curtain. 

“You’re back from Jonas’ then?” he asks, voice back to normal volume again. 

“Obviously,” Isak snorts, but then softens his tone and adds a little quieter, “Missed you.”

“Aww, baby, I missed you too,” Even coos, popping his head around the side of the curtain to look at Isak with a dopey smile. “You know you could always join me in here,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows. And it’s probably the most ridiculous attempt at seduction Isak’s ever seen as Even has his hair styled in a faux mohawk with the strawberry scented shampoo and there’s a line of bubbles trailing down his nose, but god help him if it isn’t working. 

To the utter disappointment of his heart and his cock, his brain takes control and he shakes his head. He’s not supposed to get the tattoo wet for a while. Besides that, he wants it to be a surprise for Even on his birthday not on a random Saturday that he decided to get all sudsy with his boyfriend. Which brings about the sudden and tragic realization that in order to successfully pull this off Isak won’t be able to get naked in front of Even for about a week, which inadvertently means that they probably won’t be able to have sex in that amount of time either. Of course, it’s not actually that long of a time to go without sex, but for them, his dick begs to differ. “No, sorry. I’m just kinda tired after hanging with the guys. Spending the day with Magnus tends to have that boner killing effect, you know?” he tries to joke, ignoring his internal crisis in regards to the sexless week that’s in store. 

“Yeah, I feel that,” Even chuckles, pulling the curtain back into place, effectively blocking Isak’s view. He feels like a kid again when the lights at the amusement park would dim and the whirl of the rides would cease signaling everyone needed to leave for the evening. “Let me finish up and I’ll meet you in the bedroom. We can watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Or we could smoke if you wanna? It’s been awhile and Jonas hooked me up today if you’re feeling up to it.”

It’s silent for a moment as Even considers the offer. Isak gives him time, patiently kicking his feet against the cabinet, listening to the muted thump as they meet the hardwood in a disjointed rhythm. They don’t smoke as much as they used to, especially not as much as they did when they first got together and Isak was unaware of the negative effects drugs and alcohol could have on his meds and Even himself, but when they do it’s always Even’s decision. Only Even can feel what he feels, and Isak thinks it’s only fair that it’s him who decides if he wants to partake in any substance use or not. For the most part Isak’s just along for the ride; they made an agreement a long time ago that if Even wasn’t up for it then neither was Isak. 

“I think we can do that,” Even finally answers over a spray of water drops hitting the curtain. “I feel like I’ve been in a really good place lately, you know, so I think it’ll be fine. Let’s do it.”

“Ok,” Isak replies, hopping off the cabinet and heading into their bedroom to change into a softer, baggier t-shirt that doesn’t reek with the lingering scent of the tattoo parlor and a pair of maroon joggers. They’re Even’s favorite pair to run in at the gym so the elastic around the waist is loose and stretchy. It feels like heaven after being confined in the fresh hell of his jeans all day. 

Once he’s comfortable, he digs the baggie of weed out and sets to rolling it into something resembling a joint. It doesn’t have to look pretty so long as it does the trick. Fight him. 

He’s standing there staring out the window, flipping the joint over and between his fingers absentmindedly as he’s waiting for Even to finish when he’s struck with the idea. It’s something that he’s been itching to do for awhile but is always either too nervous to bring it up or too surrounded by other people at parties to actually entertain the thought of going through with it. But now, in the comfort of their own home, their own universe, there’s nothing stopping him. 

He walks back into the bathroom, stopping beside the shower and drumming his fingers lightly against the yellow plastic of the shower curtain. “Hey, Evy?” 

The curtain is instantly pulled back again and Isak wishes he could say that he’s surprised but Even tends to drop whatever he’s doing when Isak calls for him, especially when he has that slightly vulnerable edge to his voice, like he does now. 

“Sup, babe?” 

Even’s hair is darker than normal from the water and it’s matted to his head, bangs practically dripping directly into his eyes. He looks so beautifully innocent that Isak gets distracted. Forgetting what he wanted to say, he reaches up to cup his boyfriend’s cheek, running his thumb over the slippery skin before pulling him forward into the first kiss they’ve shared since that morning. It’s only been a few hours, but it still feels like the first drink of water after wandering through the desert. It’s more of a homecoming than walking through the front door will ever be. 

Isak groans into the kiss and Even eagerly swallows it up, twisting his fingers into his curls and trying to move closer, forgetting about the shower still running behind him and chasing the taste of Isak on his tongue. It’s not until Isak registers the uncomfortable wetness seeping into his socks that they break apart. Even muttering a quick “shit,” quickly turning to grapple with the shower handles to turn off the rouge water splashing onto the bathroom tiles. 

Just as quickly as they separated they’re back together again, Even stepping out of the shower and crowding Isak against the wall so fast that Isak’s head spins as though he’s already high. With Even pressed flush against him, naked and wet, eager to be wrapped in Isak, he might as well be. It’s basically the same feeling. Maybe even a little better. His clothes are getting damp as he basically functions as a living version of a towel for his boy, but as long as Even keeps doing that thing with his tongue, pulling Isak’s mouth farther open with his thumb, he doesn’t really give a damn. He sealed himself to his fate of being whatever Even needed a year and a half ago. From the very first moment electric green had met cobalt blue, Isak had been gone. 

When the need to breathe becomes impossible to ignore, Even moves on to attacking his neck with little nips and biting kisses. “I love you, Issy” he moans against his Adam’s apple, and Isak feels the vibration of it all the way down to his toes. 

“Shotgun with me,” he gasps, fingers flexing around Even’s luscious, slippery hips. 

Even pulls back, watching him with his signature eyebrow raise. He must like what he sees because, if possible, his pupils dilate even more, the fiery blue reduced to a delicate shadow. He surges forward to kiss Isak again, pecking his lips one, two, three times. “Let’s shotgun,” he says giddily, eyes brimming with excitement. He traces his nose down the bridge of Isak’s before grabbing his hand tightly in his own and leading them into their bedroom. 

He dresses hastily, opting for boxers and the Jesus shirt Isak stole from Eskild years ago. Every time they smoke and Even wears that shirt it feels like the first day they did this together, the day after their first kiss, the first time Isak had ever kissed a boy. Even, of course, knows this and usually goes out of his way to wear it when he knows they’re going to be smoking together. It’s such a simple thing but it makes Isak’s heart skip a beat, so he moves in to Even’s space, licking the stray drop of water traveling down Even’s pale neck. 

“I love you,” he whispers in his ear, gently biting the lobe and making him shiver. “You look hot in that shirt. I doubt Jesus has ever looked as good as he does when he’s on you.”

Even bursts into laughter. “Did you just inadvertently tell me that I make Jesus hot?”

“Nei,” Isak says, shoving Even away in exasperation.

“No, you totally did,” he insists through giggles, his eyes crinkling. “Maybe it wasn’t explicit but it was absolutely implied in that statement. Wow, I just, I’m really flattered right now, babe, seriously, thank you.”

“Whatever,” Isak huffs, ignoring the telltale burning sensation in his cheeks signifying that he’s blushing. Instead he flops down on the bed, tossing an arm over his face. “Are we gonna do this or not?”

“Oh, we are so gonna do this,” Even says, emphasizing the ‘so.’

Grabbing the lighter his grandfather gave him, he leaps onto the bed beside his boy, jostling Isak enough to make him slide his arm down enough to give him a squinty-eyed look. His boy just waggles his eyebrows, blowing him a kiss from the side of his mouth as he lights the joint and takes a small drag. Blowing the smoke towards the ceiling, he maneuvers so he’s lying down more fully, pressed along the length of Isak’s warm body. He pulls at Isak with the hand not currently holding the lit joint until he reluctantly rolls onto his side, perfectly lined up with his boy, their noses resting side by side, bumping together with every small movement. 

“Hei,” Even breathes, his breath fanning out over Isak’s face. Isak rolls his eyes in that fond way he only uses with Even and grabs his arm to wrap around himself, snuggling into his chest, placing a hand over the steadying beat of Even’s heart. 

"You better not drop that in my hair fucking laying like this, dude," Isak grumbles as though he wasn’t an active participant in this, like he wasn’t the one who cuddle so fucking close to Even that he now has to hold his arm at an awkward angle to keep the joint from accidently burning his boy. 

Even gives him a pointed look from the corner of his eye at being referred to as "dude," but doesn't otherwise comment on it, opting instead to focus on the most important part of that statement, at least to him. "Knew you cared about your hair."

"Well when it could potentially catch on fire, yeah, Even, it's safe to say I care about my hair," he says exasperatedly. "Besides," he moves impossibly closer in an attempt to get more comfortable, now practically laying on top of his boyfriend, "I would live if anything happened to my hair, but you? Eh, I'm not so sure."

"Exuse me," Even gasps, pulling back just enough to place an offended hand over his heart, "I'm pretty sure I would be fine. Or did you forget that I survived the Prince Curl Massacre of 2017?"

Survive is a pretty strong word for what Even did. A better description would be endured while going through the 5 stages of grief complete with forlorn staring, not so silent sighs whenever he forgot and absentmindedly went to run his fingers through Isak's curls, and not to mention the constant bitch looks he gave for a solid three months to anyone who had been at that party, or as Even ordained it "the scene of the crime." Even people who weren't in the room when it happened were greeted by a glare from Even before his bubbly personality returned, which was just another thing Isak had to deal with. Let's just say Vilde was not exactly enthused to be involved just because it was her boyfriend who dared Isak to shave his head.

Still, Isak decides to humor him. "I know you did, baby," he tips his chin up and Even is quick to peck his lips three times in quick succession, "but I'd really rather not go through that again."

“Me neither,” he replies, taking a long, slow drag from the joint. For all it’s worth he sounds and looks like someone who survived a very serious trauma and is now trying to avoid remembering that it ever happened. 

If it was anyone but Even, Isak would laugh. But it is Even, so instead he finds himself rubbing his thumb comfortingly over his pulse point as he waits for Even to slowly breathe the smoke into his own mouth, body tingling with anticipation. 

Sliding his hand along Isak's cheek, Even closes the short distance between their mouths, sealing them together, blowing the smoke into his mouth where it swirls and wraps around like a phantom tongue, almost like a kiss that’s there but not quite. It takes everything in him not to close his eyes, to keep them open to meet the intensity burning behind Even’s as he watches him, stroking his cheek with his thumb. 

Once all the smoke has been transferred, Even pulls back the barest amount, placing his fingers over Isak’s lips. After a moment Isak blows the smoke back out, watching as it curls around Even’s fingers.

Even’s pupils are blown already and they’ve hardly even started. Of course, it’s not like Isak’s in any better shape, breathing a little erratic, high on Even’s reaction alone. The idea of shotgunning had always fascinated him from the moment he’d seen a couple doing it a party in his first year. From that moment, he knew he wanted to try it, and once Jonas started buying from Elias the possibility had never seemed more real. Yet, he could never bring himself to ask his friend and there was no one else he trusted enough to do it with, or so he thought. He’s never been so glad to have waited to shotgun before in his life. There’s no way it could be any better than this with his boyfriend. He’s pretty sure he was waiting for Even without even knowing it. 

Lazily, he reaches for the blunt, brushing his fingers along the long length of his boyfriend’s while he pulls back. Flipping it around deftly, he places it between his parted lips, sucking on it obscenely, delighting in the way Even swallows thickly as he watches his mouth, mesmerized. The smug quirking of his eyebrow is missed, but that doesn’t matter as Isak takes a breath, moves forward, and crashes his red bitten lips against Even’s. 

As he’s exhaling the smoke into Even’s mouth, the other boy presses himself closer still, which a moment ago if you’d asked Isak if it was possible to get closer he would have responded with a resounding no. However, the man of his dreams seems to have no qualms about proving him wrong, slotting his leg between Isak’s and rolling half on top of him. His hand is a little shaky as he passes the joint back for Even to take a drag of his own, repeating the cycle in a peaceful rhythm. 

They continue taking and exchanging drags from the blunt until the familiar heaviness starts settling into their limbs, their thoughts sliding into the wonderful realm of being fuzzy around the edges. Smoking at a more leisure pace, Isak takes the time to nuzzle his face into the soft fabric covering Even's chest, soaking up the scent of lavender and vanilla. 

"Ugh, you smell so good," Isak declares, dipping his tongue in the little hollow spot of Even's throat, following the kitten lick with a wet press of his lips. "Did I tell you that Magnus' grandpa is chill with us all using his cabin over Easter? It's bigger than Chris' family's, so we can all fit, especially with some of us sharing a room. So, Magnus said it's cool if we invite the balloon boys and Eskild and Linn. I tried to get us the big bedroom but apparently the fucker told the girls first so Noora and Eva got it, but I managed to get us dibs on one of the other good rooms before Jonas could call it for him and Mikael." 

"Ah, I love it when we cock block our best friends together," Even says, rubbing his hand up and down Isak's back. "Almost feels like we're a real couple," he sniffs, pretending to shed a tear at the tender moment, wiping his finger over his eye, flicking away the faux wetness. 

Isak flicks his hand too, grabbing it and threading their fingers together when he wraps his arm around his shoulders again. "You're a fucking dork," he admonishes. 

"Yeah, but you still love me."

"Eh," Isak shrugs, holding up the hand that isn't latched onto Even's and shaking it in a way that's meant to convey so-so.

Even just snorts at the feigned indifference and places a tender kiss in Isak's curls. 

Closing his eyes with a content hum, Isak questions, "What about you? How was your day?"

"It was really good," Even sighs. "I finished reading the chapter for my philosophy class, visited my parents and helped mom pick up some groceries since dad hurt his ankle last weekend, oh, and I met old us."

He says it so nonchalantly, like he's commenting on the weather not talking about meeting their future selves apparently, but the words have Isak's eyes snapping open. "Hva faen? What do you mean you met old us?" 

"I mean that I met old us," Even says like that somehow clears things up. It doesn't, and Even must see the confusion in his eyes because he brushes back some stray curls that fell into Isak's eyes when he had propped himself up on Even's chest to see him better and explains. 

"Ok, so on the way home I stopped by the park because it snowed last night and the ice and snow was kinda hanging from the tree branches, shining in that intricate way in the sunlight. I wanted to stop and get some photos of it before it melted away like it did last time. Seriously, every time I try to photograph nature it just- it fucks with me.”

“I know it does, handsome,” Isak sympathizes, remembering all the other times Even had left the apartment to take nature shots only to come home frustrated and empty handed.

“Anyway, there was this older couple there with these two little kids. One was ice skating on the pond with a little blonde girl and the other was sitting off to the side on a sled, holding a little boy in his lap. The little boy was pointing at the snowflakes and trying to catch them on his tongue. I could hear the guy telling him about how snow forms. It was like watching Bill Nye the Science Guy or something the way he was doing it, I swear. But then the one ice-skating slid over and started talking to me about what kind of resolution I had and whether I had the external flash that went with it. He knew a shit ton about this stuff, baby, like stuff they're just now starting to touch on in my film courses at uni. It was amazing. They were like artistic and scientific, and you could just see the way they kept sneaking glances at each other, clearly still head over heels in love with each other despite being married for so long. Turns out they were high school sweethearts. And I could feel it, baby, they were old us because that's gonna be us one day, married, chillin with our grandchildren, teaching them about art and science and life.”

For a moment Isak watches the ashes fall from the joint trapped between Even’s fingers down to their sheets, thankful they don’t catch the fabric on fire, before he looks at Even again. He looks pleased, blissed out and content in the way he always gets when something symbolic to their relationship happens. It’s the kind of look that set butterflies in motion in his stomach and blazes a fire in his chest, his heart squeezing at the thought of the old couple in the park someday being them. 

“Old us,” Isak sighs in agreement, reaching his hand out to cup Even’s cheek, running his thumb along his jaw by his lips. Isak loves seeing Even smile. He loves everything about Even actually, and there’s nothing stopping him from telling him that. “I love you,” breathes like a revelation, the words blowing out and cascading into Even’s lips much like the smoke they shared earlier. 

Even’s smile softens. He turns his head and presses a light kiss against Isak’s palm. “I love you too,” he whispers, the words brushing into Isak’s skin. 

“You know,” Isak contemplates as he takes a drag, worming back into Even’s space to press their lips together, blowing out the smoke in Even’s mouth, “I bet we would be the best old couple. I’m talking like the MVP of grandpas. Nobody would be able to top us.”

“Well, I could top you,” Even replies with a little smirk, waggling his eyebrows when Isak snorts and shoves his shoulder. “But do you think they could’ve been us?” he asks, serious again. 

“What do you mean, baby?” 

Even averts his eyes, looking at the corner of the room where they have a pretty impressive pile of dirty clothes gathering. Soon, they’ll have to break down and do the laundry unless they want the flat to smell like sweat and whatever else dirty clothes smell like after festering for two weeks. Isak also noticed that they’re running low on clean boxers, and while there’s something to be said for going commando, he would rather it be a conscious choice and not a last resort. 

Twining his fingers through Isak’s curls, Even snaps his eyes back to Isak’s, signaling that he put his thoughts together in a comprehensive way. It could just be the weed, but Isak swears he can hear the waves crashing against the beach as he gazes into his boyfriend’s ocean eyes. 

“Parallel universes allow everything to happen, right?” Even starts.

He waits for Isak to nod before continuing, but because Isak’s feeling a little sappy at the moment he tacks on, “And we’re together in every one of them. Infinitely.” 

“Of course, we are,” Even says like it’s an unstated given, but he still pecks Isak’s lips lovingly before going on, “But, so like…” he trails off heaving a sigh. “In this universe, we met at Nissen in the bathroom when I was nineteen and you were seventeen, right? But, in some other universe, we meet in college or at the hospital where you work or on one of my movie sets when you accidently wander onto it, or in the bathroom at a nursing home or something. Any one of the infinite possibilities.”

Isak hums to indicate that he’s following along, trailing his nose down Even’s to alleviate some of his nerves and flicking his eyes back up to signal that he should continue. 

“We exist together in all of these universes, which also means that other people here exist in those universes as well. So, those two guys could be just like us, meeting in a number of different ways in a number of different universes. What’s stopping them from being an actual older version of us?”

“Well, we’re us. There can’t be multiple versions of the same people in the same universe. Besides, their names are different,” Isak offers, fully aware that it’s a half-assed and sort of vulnerable explanation.

“Yeah, but in the other universes our names could be different too, right? As part of the whole anything and everything is happening? And space and time could weave together. So, if the universe ran out of places to put all the Isaks and Evens some of them could be in overlapping worlds. They could even be here with us.” Even’s eyes widen and he snaps his fingers at the sudden realization, “That could be the reason why some of them have different names than us.”

Isak furrows his brow as he tries to work through what Even’s proposing. In theory, it sounds like it could be going somewhere, like it could be a valid point. But, at the same time, there would be a lot of factors at play. Like, how would the correct versions of them end up in the right universes? What would be stopping multiple Evens all named Even from existing in the same place? That actually wouldn’t be a terrible idea, Isak thinks. He’d probably enjoy having two Even’s for extra cuddling and kisses and love. Overall- ignoring his sidetracked train of thought- the only conclusion Isak reaches is that he’s either too high for this or not high enough. 

“I think that’s enough jay for you,” he says with a laugh, reaching across Even to snuff the joint out in the cup they’d placed on their bedside table. “You’re making my head hurt, baby.” He presses an appeasing kiss to Even’s temple to lessen the sting. It’s not that he’s trying to brush his thought off like it’s not important, in all actuality Isak loves the thought, he’s just not quite sure he was ready to get philosophical at the moment. 

“Sorry,” Even mumbles, offering Isak a sheepish smile that lets him know that he understands.

The corner of his lip quirks up, giving Even a small smile, which he returns happily, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, tempting Isak to reach and touch the little, happy wrinkles. Once he’s done, his hand pulled back after skimming under his eye and down the length of his nose, Even darts forward and pecks his lips. 

The next thing he knows, Even is slithering down his body, placing kisses periodically until he reaches the bottom of Isak’s shirt, which he lifts and pulls down over his head. For a horrifying moment, Isak thinks he’s about to blow a raspberry, but that fear is quickly put to rest as Even simply rests his cheek against Isak’s stomach. It’s actually really endearing, he can feel the fluttering of Even’s eyelashes above his belly button, tickling every time he blinks. He puts his hand over the bump he makes in his shirt, massaging over Even’s hair where he knows it’s at underneath the flimsy material of his too large t-shirt. It reminds him of those pregnant women that rub their baby bumps and he wonders idly if this is kind of how they feel. In many ways, Even is his baby. 

“What happened here, baby?” Even asks, gently touching the skin above the wrapping covering the tattoo where it’s peeking out over the edge of his waistband. 

“Oh, um, Jonas’ cat scratched me. It’s nothing really, hardly even hurts anymore.” He only winces slightly at that lie, but he doesn’t want Even to find out what’s actually hidden under the cotton pad. Even more than that, though, he doesn’t want him to worry that he’s in pain like he knows that he will.

Sure enough, Even’s eyebrows shoot up at the statement. God, Isak can feel it against his skin; it’s only a little freaky. “Jonas’ cat… scratched you,” he repeats slowly. “Here? It practically would have been in your shirt and pants to have done this wouldn’t it? What was his cat doing in your shirt?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably the same thing you’re doing in my shirt.” 

The huff of air that leaves Even’s nose fans out warmly against his skin. “Fair enough, I guess,” he admits, snuggling deeper into Isak, his eyelids heavy. 

The last thing either of them remembers before waking up in a tangled mess the next morning is the sloppy kiss Even presses over Isak’s navel. 

**

When Isak reaches the table after collecting his coffee from Even at the front counter, he's met with a gaping Jonas, bushy eyebrows furrowed so intensely that it looks like he's rocking a unibrow. Mahdi’s dangerously close to falling sideways out of his chair as he laughs his own ass off. All it takes for Isak to understand what's going on is a glance at Magnus who's alternating between looking to his left at Mahdi and across the table at Jonas. He looks utterly confused and impatient, his blond hair whipping from side to side as he waits for an answer. It stirs up a scent of apples that pervades Isak's nose as he takes his seat beside Jonas.

"What'd I miss," he questions. It's only been about five minutes since he left the table to order another coffee, but obviously something happened in that short amount of time. Eyebrows flicking up as he looks between the three boys, he takes a tentative sip from his cup and promptly wrinkles his nose at the unexpected taste of raspberry.

Well, maybe unexpected isn't the most accurate statement. Even has the tendency of adding a pump or two of one of the various flavored syrups to Isak's drinks for whatever reason. The flavor always changes based on the season, day of the week, even the fucking phase of the moon once because "the full moon always gives me a white chocolate vibe." Whatever that means. But the one thing that never determines the additional flavoring is the flavor of the coffee itself, which is why Isak is currently drinking an interesting concoction of a raspberry peppermint latte. Was he expecting something to be added in his coffee? Yes. Was he anticipating it to be raspberry? Fuck. No.

"I was just telling the boys about how Vilde gave me a blow job last night," Magnus begins to explain.

"Of course, you were," Isak interrupts with a snort, side-eyeing Even where he's taking an old man's order. Feeling eyes on him, he glances up and catches Isak's eye, at which point he shoots him a glare and raises the Styrofoam cup in his hand slightly. The fucker just sends him a beaming smile and blows him a kiss.

Across from him Magnus is barreling on. "And it just hit me how weird blow jobs are, right? Like how do you think they came around?"

That seems like a reasonable enough question considering it was Magnus asking. If anything, it seems a little lacking in the tactless department. At least it does until Jonas makes an affronted sound at the back of his throat and leans forward to whisper harshly, "That is not what you asked us. You said- and I quote- do you think the first person to give a BJ was like wow that looks interesting, I think I'll put it in my mouth."

And there it is. Isak chokes on his coffee. And this time not from the taste.

"Excuse me?!" Isak gasps, sucking in harsh breaths but determined to get the words out. "Why the fuck would you ask that?"

Mahdi is once again rolling with laughter, even more so now that Isak's joined the party and contributed his shocked reaction.

"No, seriously," Magnus asserts, nodding his head like the severity of this question is equal to one of national security, "You have to figure back then they would be really conscious about the stuff they put in their mouths, especially with all those medieval diseases Isak's always prattling on about like the black plague. So, what do you think was so enticing about a dick that they would risk it? I mean, I wouldn't risk it just to suck a guy's dick. Would you?"

It's probably a fair point, but the validity of it gets overshadowed by the fact that the woman sitting two tables away is now full-on staring at them combined with the fact that, yeah, Isak has a special fondness for Even's dick. While Jonas' cheeks are tinted pink because of the conversation and the attention they're attracting, Isak's are dusted in a blush because he would probably be one of those medieval people contributing to the blow job craze. Oh god, he really hopes that a parallel Isak isn't the one currently going through this train of thought to become the first blow job giver. He likes to think he would have more control than that, but let's be honest, from the first moment Even had dropped his pants Isak had ached to wrap his mouth around him.

"Can we talk about anything else, please?" Jonas implores, practically begs as Magnus continues to babble on about the semantics like who admits to engaging in oral sex back then and if they started up a seminar course like how to please your man during the 1700s 101. "How's the tattoo looking, Issy K?" he asks, moving the conversation into safer territory.

Magnus is amiable to this change as his eyes widen and he crows, "Fy faen, I can't believe I almost forgot about that! Did Even flip his shit when he saw it?" He leans his elbows on the table, almost knocking over his cup of green tea if it weren't for Isak's quick reflexes and the fact that he could've seen this coming from miles away as Magnus was like an overexcited puppy on drugs. "Tell me Even flipped his shit when he saw it.”

"Nei, he did not 'flip his shit' because I haven't shown him yet. What?" he snaps when he's met with three disbelieving faces.

"You really haven't shown him yet?"

"No. Like I told you guys from the beginning, it's a birthday surprise. It hasn't been his birthday yet so I obviously haven't told him," Isak shrugs, wondering what's so difficult for them to understand.

"Well, yeah," Mahdi says, voice dragging out as though he's trying to explain something to a child, " but it's Even. Don't you usually just give him whatever he wants?"

Isak rears back. "No, I don't just give Even whatever he wants." That's not exactly true in any sense as both he and Even tend to be saps with a general need to make each other happy, but that doesn't mean the boys need to know that any more than they already do. It's bad enough that pre-Even Isak would probably roll his eyes so hard they would pop out of his skull if he knew present Isak believed wholeheartedly in the cheesy as all hell idea that his boyfriend's happiness was synonymous with his own.

"Dude, you totally do," Jonas says, knocking his knee against Isak's under the table. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. We're all really happy that you found someone you can be disgusting with. Besides, it's not like Even isn't the same way with you."

Of course, because the universe is a cruel bitch, Even chooses that moment to arrive at their table on his break with an eye-crinkling smile and a chocolate chip muffin in hand. "What am I like with Isak?" he asks.

"Nothing," Isak asserts, daring the others with his eyes to contradict him.

Magnus, as usual, doesn't get the memo. "You're whipped. Want me to grab you a chair, bro?" he wonders, oblivious to the daggers Isak's shooting at him as he turns around to grab an extra chair for Even from the vacant table behind them.

"It's fine, Mags," Even says at the same time as Isak scoots his chair back from the table enough to give Even room to sit in his lap, which he promptly does, setting the muffin down and turning to press a kiss to Isak's cheek. "Halla, handsome."

"Hei," he returns a little breathlessly, nuzzling their noses together, wrapping his arms around his waist to hold him secure and close. Always close.

"Told ya," Jonas sing-songs under his breath once their little display of PDA is mostly finished and Even's turned back around to start picking bites off his muffin. Isak sticks his tongue out at him. Maybe it's not the best defense tactic in the world but it's a little difficult for him to be grumpy when he's got the man of his life warm and content in his lap.

Even, on the other hand, doesn’t share this sentiment as he immediately turns to Jonas and declares, “You need to keep your cat on a leash.”

“What did Buttersquash ever do to you?” Jonas asks, bewildered. 

Rather than giving him an actual answer, Even simply raises his eyes and gives him a look that clearly says “you know damn well what she did,” which doesn’t help Jonas out in the slightest. He glances at Isak for some help, and when they make eye contact Isak gestures imperceptibly towards his side. It isn’t a lot to go on, but Jonas is a smart guy so maybe he’ll figure it out. Isak prays that he figures it out. 

Because Jonas is the best bro of all the best bros, his eyes widen in understanding, giving Isak a slight nod before clearing his throat and turning back to Even all faux innocence. “Right, she um,” he coughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “she scratched Isak the other day didn’t she.” It sounds more like a question than a statement, but upon noticing Isak’s sigh of relief as he slumps back in the seat, he gains more confidence. “I keep telling my mom to get her declawed. It doesn’t help that she really seems to like Isak for whatever reason. Always crawling all over him.” That part, at least, is true. 

“Something we have in common then,” Even says with a smirk, shocking Isak at the 180 in attitude towards the little fur ball. 

Isak rolls his eyes. “Lucky me,” he says deadpan. 

“Yeah,” Even breathes, nose bumping into Isak’s as he nods, “lucky you.”

Isak is successfully able to fight the smile pulling at his lips for almost a full minute, partially due to his teeth digging into his lips and sealing them together, but eventually he gives in-he always give in to Even- and etches his smile into Even’s lips. 

The flash and shutter sound from a phone camera along with a loud “aww” breaks them apart before the kiss can get too heated for a Wednesday afternoon in KB. Across the table, Magnus is gazing at the photo he’d taken on his phone with an endeared expression. “Faen, this is precious. I’m so gonna use this in my best man speech at your wedding.” 

“Um, who says you’re gonna be the best man?” Mahdi demands.

“Seriously,” Jonas adds, “Everyone knows the best man is supposed to be the best friend. So, that would be me.” 

“Nei!” Magnus objects. “You’re already Isak’s first choice for who he’d bang. You can’t be the best man too. Besides, I’m his friend.”

“True, but you’re not his best friend,” Mahdi continues to argue, “and contrary to Jonas’ incorrect assumption, that label actually belongs to me. Magnus, you can just forward me that picture to use during my speech.”

The boys continue to bicker about who rightfully deserves the title of best man in a wedding that doesn’t even exist yet, completely ignoring Even chocking on the sip of coffee he had taken from Isak’s cup right before Magnus had opened his mouth to bring up the conversation of which of the boys Isak would sleep with as evidence. 

“Since when is your first fuck choice Jonas?” Even splutters, looking at Isak in a mixture of amusement and betrayal. They’d briefly talked about his first-year crush on Jonas, but the last Even had heard the other boy had no idea of his boyfriend’s previous infatuation with him. Even knew that that was all it had been and that Isak was with him now for good, but something about not only Jonas but also Magnus and Mahdi knowing didn’t sit right with him.

“He’s not,” Isak states, voice firm as he rubs soothing circles against the warm skin of Even’s hip where his hand had slipped underneath his gray sweater. “It’s kind of a,” he trails off, rolling his eyes as he searches for the right words to describe that conversation in the courtyard, “ridiculous story. Basically, Magnus wanted to know which of the boys I would bang first if he was such a boner killer. Logically, I picked Jonas then Mahdi.” 

Inquisitive blue eyes search his for a few seconds more until Even finds what he must be looking for, laughing through his nose and turning around to watch the squabbling that is somehow still occurring despite the person who they’re fighting over not even paying them any attention. 

“How long do you think this is gonna go on for,” Even whispers, leaning back against Isak’s chest, his impossibly long legs stretched out in front of him under the table, and placing his head on Isak’s shoulder so their cheeks are resting against each other. 

“I don’t know.” Isak sighs, “Probably awhile.” 

Even hums, taking another sip from Isak’s cup and wrinkling his nose as he swallows, Adam’s Apple bobbing mesmerizingly. “This really is disgusting. Can’t believe you would order something like this. Good thing your taste in men is better than your taste in coffee, right?”

Isak squints his eyes at his boy giddily watching him and waiting for a snarky remark. Instead, Isak flicks Even’s cheek, causing the other boy to laugh loudly and carefree. He’s always beautiful when he laughs, the sound filling every hollow space inside Isak until every crack and crevice is covered in a warm, tingling feeling of love and home and Even; and when his lips graze Even’s cheek in a gentle kiss, it’s met with an answering one against his own. 

**

Just walking through the door of their small flat is enough to make the stress of the day slide off his shoulders, left on the threshold to be forgotten. He rolls his eyes at the shitty music he can hear lightly playing in their bedroom/living room. For the last two weeks Even’s been attempting to put together a soundtrack for a short film project about a couple who believed they hated each other only for each of them to wake up in an alternate universe, one in a world where the couple is about to get married, the other in a world where their children shake them awake in a king-sized bed. Over the course of the movie, they realize their hatred was misplaced and eventually get together themselves when they make it back to their own universe. It was really sweet and only slightly pretentious. Isak could tell from the frustrated groan- and the overall tone of the film he’d picked up on when Even had given him a sneak preview- that this song is not going to work at all. 

Toeing off his shoes and hanging up his backpack, Isak prepares himself for an evening of terrible music and running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. Only one of those things actually sounds appealing to him. Actually, they both sound pretty damn good because it involves Even; Isak is a sucker for anything that allows him to spend time with his own personal sun. 

What he doesn’t expect, though, is Even shoving his laptop away from himself and springing up from the bed with wide eyes, thrusting something behind his back as soon as he notices Isak rounding the corner. 

“Are you ok, there?” he asks, watching him skeptically as he shifts awkwardly, almost like he’s shying away from an invisible touch. “I thought you heard me come in.”

“Um, nei,” he replies distractedly, gesturing half-heartedly towards his computer abandoned on the sheets. “Working on the soundtrack, guess I got a little distracted. But aren’t you home early?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he glances at the clock hanging on the wall.

“Yeah, maybe a little. The tram was actually on time for once.” He’s trying to see what Even’s hiding behind his back, but every time he moves so does Even, effectively blocking his view. Giving up because this could go on for awhile, he gives in an asks, “What’re you hiding?”

“Nothing,” he answers just the right side of too quick for it not to be a lie. 

Taking matters into his own hands, he walks over to his boyfriend and reaches his arms around him, hoping to at least feel whatever it is that has Even all twitchy. Sure, he’s not the picture of cool, mostly because he’s a huge fucking dork, but he’s normally not this transparent about it. 

His fingers are met with a cold dampness for a moment before there’s a clatter and pieces of ice are scattered across their floor. They both stare at the deformed cubes melting into abstract shapes, eyes glued to the floor where the small puddles are expanding as the seconds tick by, making Isak wonder if this will result in loss of their down payment for water damages when they eventually decide to move to a bigger place. In all actuality it probably doesn’t matter much seeing as they have a dent in the wall where their headboard has been smashed into it one too many times as well as a huge scratch on the hardwood in the entryway where Magnus had drug their table when they were moving in and a fairly decent sized painting of the solar system on the wall beside their fridge from one of Even’s first episodes after they started living here. 

All in all, the residue from some melting ice isn’t going to damage the place any more than any of those other things that Isak likes to say gives the apartment some character. But the question still remains, “Why were you hiding ice behind your back?”

“I was icing my side. I, uh, slipped and crashed into a table at work today,” Even says, running a hand through his hair and blowing out an exasperated breath.

“Baby,” Isak sighs, cupping his cheeks and swiping his thumbs along his cheekbones before sliding his hands into the blonde hair at the nape of his neck. The cold front that’s been assaulting Oslo for the past two weeks has left Even riddled with bruises as the poor boy continues to slip and slide on even the smallest patches of ice. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he asks gently, searching his eyes for any indication that maybe he’s hurt more than he’s letting on. If he smacked into the table hard enough he may have broken a rib. 

Even smiles softly like he can read the thoughts swirling through Isak’s mind, and he brings his own hands up to wrap around Isak’s wrists, long fingers curling around and overlapping themselves, squeezing lightly as he says, “I’m fine, Dr. Valtersen. Besides, it was hardly even a fall. If you’d seen it, you probably would’ve laughed.” 

It’s meant to be a joke, but Isak doesn’t like the way the words taste floating in the air in the short distance between them. “I wouldn’t have laughed,” he declares firmly, shaking his head. Even raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, giving Isak a look that clearly states his disbelief at the declaration, and ok “Maybe I would have laughed if it was someone else, like Magnus, but you getting hurt is never funny to me, baby. No matter how ridiculous you may look while doing it.” 

Even watches him for a moment, squinting his eyes and darting his gaze all over his boy’s face, eventually meeting Isak’s gaze again in a crinkly-eyed smile. Licking his lips, he pulls him in, pressing their lips together in the ghost of a kiss, not quite enough but at the same time overwhelming at the tenderness and warmth radiating into him from Even. When they pull apart, they don’t go far, brushing their noses together. 

“Ok,” Isak says once the feeling returns to his legs and he can muster up enough strength to push this beautiful boy away from him, even if only for a short period of time. Sometimes the small moments apart, the moments when they can’t see each other and their skin tingles from the itch of desire to touch, feel more like a lifetime than the longer periods of separation throughout the day or the occasional night when one of them stays with their parents or the boys. “You clean this up,” he gestures to the almost completely melted ice at their feet beginning to seep into their socks, “and I’ll go get my little clutz some more ice.”

Even snorts, grabbing the roll of toilet paper they keep on the nightstand to dry up the water. “What happened to not making fun of me?”

“It’s not making fun of you if it’s true,” Isak throws over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen. “I think the word you’re looking for here is tough love.”

“Technically that’s two words,” Even retorts. “Besides, I don’t think you could ever do tough love,” he pitches his voice as he says ‘tough love,’ making it clear that he’s mocking Isak, “You’re much too soft for that, sweetheart.”

Isak wants to come back with something witty- remind Even that he doesn’t want him to be too soft, that there’s actually quite a bit of merit in being hard- but the way that he melts at the pet name pretty much proves Even right. Rolling his eyes at his own sappiness, he instead chooses to call back, “I didn’t think you had to work today.”

“Yeah, no I didn’t, but Lisa called in sick, so I took her shift.”

“You know you don’t have to cover shifts every time someone asks, right? Seriously, sometimes you’re too nice, babe,” he says, hitting the ice tray against the granite counter to loosen the remaining pieces after Even’s earlier attempt at self-doctoring. 

“I know,” Even replies once Isak’s finished assaulting the kitchenware and the flat is again relatively quiet and calm. His voice is slightly muffled from the wall between them, a fact that Isak was happy to note the first time they had a conversation in two separate rooms. If their voices were dampened from the thin wall in their own flat, then he could only imagine how little their neighbors would be able to detect through the much thicker walls when their voices were a little louder and less controlled. “But I was the only one available to cover, so. Besides, the extra money will come in handy when I go to purchase my boyfriend something special for Valentine’s Day. Speaking of which,” he snaps his fingers as though he’s just remembered something important, “I got you a coffee on the table.” 

Ice wrapped securely in a dishcloth, Isak turns around to find the coffee only to roll his eyes fondly. 

Since the first day of February, Even’s been giving him little trinkets and gifts with a ridiculous pun attached to them. A pack of fresh pencils with a sticky note attached reading “You’re just write for me,” cardamom toasties in bed with a heart shape card declaring “You spice up my life,” a box of pizza he picked up after his classes with “You have more than a pizza my heart” written in sharpie across the inside flap, and even a box of nails to which Even explained with a smirk “I wanna nail you.” The fact that that last one was successful in no way lessens the amount of cheesiness and stupidity. 

Unsurprisingly, Even has once again delivered. There’s a small Styrofoam cup sitting on the table, wisps of smoke rising from the opening in the lid, with the words “I love you a latte” written around the cup with what must have been a purple pen, the coloring of the cup making it hard to discern the actual color of the ink. 

“I swear,” Isak groans, walking back into the bedroom where an obviously pleased Even is sitting on the bed, impish grin lighting up his face, “if I didn’t love you so damn much and it wouldn’t crush a piece of my soul, I would break up with you for that.” 

Ignoring the obviously empty threat, Even watches as his boyfriend crawls onto the bed and, rather than handing him the ice, takes it to the head of the bed with him where he sits with his back against the wall, long legs spread in front of him. “Come ‘ere,” Isak urges in a soft voice, patting his chest in invitation for Even to come lean against him.

It’s an offer that Even would have to be dead to decline, and even then he’d probably still find a way to wrap himself around Isak, completely surrounding himself in the calming scent and warmth of his boy, his life. 

Careful to avoid further provoking the pain in his right side, Even rests heavily on his left side, back pressed against Isak’s chest, leaning slightly against his boyfriend’s right leg to get comfortable. It’s an angle that Isak is beyond grateful for as it means that Even isn’t resting on his own still tender hip. It’s made quite a bit of progress since the first night in which his clothes felt like Satan’s little helpers every time they brushed against him in the wrong way, but it’s still pretty evident that it’s there if enough stimulation is applied. 

Situated to his satisfaction, Isak wraps his arms around his boy and gently holds the makeshift icepack against his side through his shirt to avoid freezing him to death. Even whimpers slightly at first contact, prompting Isak to press a kiss against his temple and run soothing fingers through his hair, but then he adjusts Isak’s hand to the place where he needs the numbing sensation the most, pressing a kiss against his jaw in a silent thank you. 

They sit like that for a while, just soaking each other in and feeling the movement of their chests from their breathing and synchronized heartbeats. After some time, Even starts absentmindedly running his fingers along the inseam of Isak’s jeans against the inner part of his thigh. It’s not intended to be sexual or even a proposed promise for things to come. It’s a distracted touch between lovers, something intimate to remind each other of their presence, of their trust, of their love. It’s a touch that they often find themselves engaging in during movies just tracing patterns into the bare skin of the other’s arm, at restaurants while they wait for their food just hooking their ankles together under the table and maneuvering their jeans up enough for skin to skin contact, or during parties when they’ve been chatting with other people and reunite with arms wrapped around waists or fingers tangling together. Isak doubts Even even realizes he’s doing it. The only reason Isak himself is aware of it is because he’s in a very Even-centered mood at the moment, more so than usual. 

“There’s a hole in your sock,” Even whispers, staring down at where their feet are resting together. 

“Yeah,” Isak says, wiggling his toes and watching as the hole stretches to expose his big toe through the yellow and gray stripped fabric. “It’s for an experiment. I’m trying to see how long it takes a small hole to develop into a big one.”

“Oh,” Even says, never ceasing his finger’s ministrations against Isak’s thigh. He leans back into him a little further, nuzzling his nose against the skin of Isak’s throat. “How’s that going?”

“Really well actually.”

“How do you know how long it’s been?”

“I remember the day I first noticed the hole,” he explains simply. At Even’s questioning eyebrow raise and curious eyes, he elaborates, “The first time I saw the hole was at the neon party. I wanted to kiss you but I was too nervous to even look at you, so I looked at my feet instead, and there it was. I decided to start the experiment that night, right before you slide your foot on top of mine, covering the frayed spot.”

Even pulls back to stare at him with an expression of awe and amazement. He slides his foot over Isak’s, covering the hole in an imitation of what he did that night. “You can kiss me now,” he says, and his voice cracks from the emotions dancing across his face and through his body. 

Isak smiles. “Yeah, I can,” he replies just as quietly, just as amazed at the fact that this boy is with him and that, unlike that fateful night at the party, he can kiss the ever-loving shit out of him whenever he wants.

Which is exactly what he does. He wraps his fingers in Even’s t-shirt and uses it as leverage to pull him into a skin-scorching kiss, tongues dancing together hungrily as they try their best to taste every inch of each other. They only part long enough for Isak to reverently say “I love you” against Even’s lips and for the resounding, borderline worship reply of “I love you, too” to be seared into his own mouth, pressed into his body and sealed there forever by the press of Even’s lips against his own. 

**

Even has been uncharacteristically quiet the entire tram ride and short walk up the block back to their apartment from the party. Overall, it had turned out exceptionally well, better even than Isak had imagined when he was planning the surprise birthday party at Syng. Everyone had been able to come, even Even's parents who had been out of town on business over the weekend took an early flight home to celebrate with their son.

For all the shit Even gives him about being a "bad liar," he had been completely shocked when they walked through the doors for what was supposed to be a simple boys’ night and found all of their friends and family waiting with balloons, presents, and a fairly decent sized cake sitting on a table in the corner. A cake that Even decided to feed pieces of to Isak as though it were a wedding cake instead of a birthday cake.

Everything was perfect. As expected, Even had nearly cried when he opened his gift from Isak and found a rolled up poster from Romeo and Juliet. Not just any movie poster, though, no this was one of the originals from the movie's release, signed by Baz Luhrmann. By some miracle he had stumbled upon it at a thrift store that Eskild had drug him to. Even's eyes had sparkled as he mapped out exactly where he was going to hang it when they got home. Talk of an appreciative blow job might have been involved but that was beside the point.

The point is that Even had been chattering non-stop for the past few hours only to have gone radio silent.

"Is everything ok, baby?" Isak questions tentatively when they walk inside the apartment and -much to his surprise- rather than hanging up his gift Even just states at the wall, frozen.

Snapping out of his trance, he turns to Isak, breaking his silence but not in the way he was expecting. "You're amazing," he says, closing the small gap between them and wrapping his arms around Isak's waist, making him burn where Even's fingers brush against the warm skin beneath his sweater. "What did I do to deserve you?" Even questions, eyes bright with awe.

Isak's at a loss for what to say, his brain slowly losing focus as Even continues to rub maddening circles into the skin of his back just above the waistband of his jeans. That combined with the intensity of his gaze and the obvious adoration he’s projecting for Isak without even trying to hide it is causing his brain to slowly lose focus of everything except the beautiful boy standing in front of him. Shrugging helplessly, he answers with the closest approximation of the truth that he can muster, “You exist.” 

The blinding smile he’s rewarded with crinkles Even’s eyes and burns a fire inside his chest. “You exist too,” he says, slowly walking them backwards until his knees bump into the edge of the bed. He runs his nose over the bridge of Isak’s reverently as he states, “That’s the only thing I’ve ever needed. You. From the first moment I saw you. Just you.”

And then Isak’s pushing him down on the bed with a slight bounce before crawling onto his lap and straddling him, pressing their lips together in a kiss that tastes of love and vanilla frosting and cheap beer and- most importantly- Isak and Even. It’s comforting and thrilling all at once, the familiarity of being together tangling with the ever-present disbelief that they were in the apartment they’ve shared for almost a year now, that Even is his, that Even awakens things in him that he had mistakenly labeled as deceased or incorrect in his youth thinking they were things he would never feel, intended for other people but never meant for him. Even showed him that he wasn’t designed wrong or even flawed. No, he was created to feel, and he wanted to feel everything with Even. 

The ding of a phone makes Isak pull back, sitting on Even's hips and brushing the hair out of his eyes where it's already begun to fall against his forehead. "It's 21:21," he breathes, heart stuttering when Even's breath hitches and his pupils blow wide. "It's 21:21 and you’re 21."

"Fuck." He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a second to let that sink in, to soak into his bones and soothe the jagged edges in his brain that still exist from a time when 21 was just a number. When 21 was just a prescribed dosage of milligrams, just another reason why it was an age he never thought he'd reach. But now? Now it was so much more: a beginning, forgiveness, life, love. Now 21 was his everything holding him down on the planet, his own personal center of gravity with electric green eyes and a heart bigger than his body. "Fuck," he chokes out again, voice low and scratchy, blinding Isak with a flash of cobalt blue as he opens his eyes before surging up to seal their lips together.

It's a chaste kiss filled with too many emotions to be anything else, but when Even says "I love you" and Isak's lips follow the movement in both an echo and an answer, it feels like the world tilts on its axis right there in their bed.

"Now I have a boner," Even chuckles, moving his lips to smear them against Isak's cheek in a sloppy imitation of a kiss.

"What, you didn't before?" He's going for offended, but the fondness in his voice and mirth shining in his eyes betrays him. "Talk about hard to please. Here I am, practically sitting on your dick," he gives his hips a little wiggle, pressing down just enough for Even to feel the pressure through the denim of his jeans, "and what gets you going? The fucking time. Should I leave you and the clock alone? Am I interrupting you?"

Even pauses for a moment, titling his head in consideration, hair making a swishing sound as it rubs against the pillow. "Only a little. But I don't think you need to leave." Sitting up, he places his lips right beside Isak's ear and whispers, "It likes to watch us."

"God, you are ridiculous," he groans, shoving Even back and glowering at the fucker as he just laughs, back bouncing on the bed and jostling Isak slightly. "You are the worst. I hate you."

"C'mon, baby, it's a tragic, star-crossed love story."

"No, the true tragic story here is the fact that I'm putting up with this. Seriously, I don't even know why I'm still here," Isak sniffs.

Even rolls them over so he's hovering over Isak, nestled perfectly between his legs like a puzzle piece slotting into place, and Isak instantly wraps his legs around his hips like it's an instinct. It's simple science, when you hear a loud noise you jump, when Even Bech Næsheim is between Isak Valtersen's legs with wild hair and awestruck eyes brimming with love he covers himself in everything that he is.

Even nips his bottom lip, rolling it between his teeth gently until it's spit slick and shiny. "Because no one else can love you better than me." It's both a promise and a threat somehow, and to prove his point, he grinds his hips against Isak's, the bulges in their jeans rubbing together deliciously, making Isak groan and shiver and scratch at Even's back through his shirt. 

They continue to kiss lazily, the sound of denim scratching against denim mingling with small whimpers and gasps as they rub against each other. Even pulls back slightly with a gasp. “I need to hear you say it.” 

“Huh? Say what?”

“Say that no one can love you better than me.”

“Nobody can love me better than you. Wouldn’t want anyone else to try,” Isak says with hooded eyes, voice barely above a whisper. 

Slowly exhaling from his nose, Even nods, closing his eyes and leaning down to kiss Isak again. When he pulls back and opens his eyes, Isak can see a faint trace of the insecurity that can never quite seem to leave his boy alone hidden in their depths. Sometimes it still feels surreal that they really are here, really are together, and Isak understands that, but it doesn’t make it any easier in moments like these. He hates that Even’s mind- much like his own- still plays tricks on him sometimes, especially when he knows that they’re meant to be together. It’s like something he can feel in his bones, like it was carved there years ago, before he was even born, like it was written in the stars or his programming. They’re pretty much soulmates despite the fact that they’re in a universe that doesn’t exhibit such things as shared-skin or colorblindness until the two of you meet or your first words spoken to each written on your wrists. Regardless, Isak knows with certainty that if they lived in one of those parallel universes that it would be Even’s name written on him. Always Even’s name. 

And that’s when it hits him. The tattoo. Even’s name is on him, and not because of the universe or fate or any other intervening factor. No, it’s there because of a choice Isak made, a choice that Even made, and maybe that’s better than just being told that they belong together. Out of all the billions of other people in the world they found each other and decided that this was it, that they wanted each other in ways that no one else could ever compare. The thought makes Isak feel special, makes him a little grateful that they don’t live in one of those other worlds because this way they can both know the true extent of their feelings for each other. 

“Let me up,” Isak says. At the confused look he receives, he darts forward to press a quick, reassuring kiss to Even’s lips before elaborating, “I have something for you. Well… sort of,” he says slowly, looking for the right way to phrase it exactly. “I more did something for you, I guess. For your birthday.”

Even’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “Seriously? You’ve done plenty for me already, baby,” he says but rolls off of him, laying back on the bed. Propped up on his elbows, he tracks Isak’s movements as he slowly stands up and turns to stand in front of him at the foot of the bed. 

“Well, it’s not exactly returnable, so…” He trails off, playing nervously with the hem of his shirt, gathering the courage to just take it off and show Even the damn thing. He doesn’t know why he’s so worried all of a sudden. He’s sure Even will love it… at least 98% sure. Not to mention the fact that everyone and their dog has told him that Even will like it. 

With one last glance at Even, he pulls the shirt over his head. The little cotton pad taped over the tattoo is only half visible, the rest of it tucked under the waist band of his jeans. They always say go big or go home and he’s already home, so he thinks fuck it and shucks those too, pulling his boxers off with them. 

“Is it a lap dance?” Even asks, then. “Because if it is, I think you’re doing it a bit too fast,” he teases.

Isak doesn’t dignify it with a response, just rolls his eyes. He hesitates for only a second, fingering at the edge of the surgical tape, before gently pulling it off and removing the cotton pad. 

The moment Even spots it, he shoots up straight as though he’s been shocked, hands coming up to grasp Isak’s hips and pull him in closer between Even’s legs. “Isak,” he chokes out, but doesn’t say anything else, just continues to stare at the tattoo with slightly wet eyes, sucking on his bottom lip. 

Just as Isak’s starting to get worked up about the lack of response from Even- what if he’s one of those people who believes in the myth that when a couple gets each other’s names tattooed that they break up? - Even meets his eyes, expression full of awe and asks, “Can I touch it?”

Isak nods jerkily, and Even moves his fingers closer to the edges of the ink like he wants to run his fingers over it but is afraid to do so. A moment later and he’s stealing all the air out of Isak’s lungs as he presses the gentlest of kisses, like a brush of butterfly wings, to his hip directly on top of his name inked there. 

“This is my handwriting, yeah?” he asks, looking up at Isak, his breath fanning out against his skin, making him shiver. 

“Yeah,” he nods, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t sound so scratchy, “I, um, I added the water droplet, you know, because of-” 

“The boy who couldn’t hold his breath underwater,” Even murmurs, running his thumb lightly over the water droplet dangling from the n at the end of his name, tracing its outline before pressing his lips to it gently as well. “My boy,” he breathes with such reverence that Isak momentarily forgets how to breathe. “It’s amazing. I love it. I love you,” he says, standing up and seizing Isak’s lips in a feverish kiss. 

They break apart with a gasp, cheeks dusted in pink, smiling shyly at each other. That is until Even’s eyes widen a fraction and he groans, dropping his head onto Isak’s shoulder and rolling his forehead along it lamentingly. 

“That’s why your browser history was full of tattoo related stuff,” he moans, sounding slightly miserable. 

And damn, why is his uncleared history always fucking him over? He feeds it, loves it, never fucking clears it because let’s be real it takes a lot more effort to clean that shit than it does to just shut your laptop or hit the home button on your phone, yet this is how it repays him. First, it practically outs him to Eva and Noora in first year and now this. Seriously, everyone worries about the FBI agent watching them when the thing they clearly need to be watching out for is the people around them.

However, when Even finally lifts his head from the hollow between Isak’s neck and shoulder, it doesn’t look like he’s calling him out on it so much as it looks like he’s about to admit something embarrassing about himself. 

“I thought you were, like, getting into dudes with tattoos or something. Like, maybe it was a new kink, and the idea actually didn’t sound that bad, you know. I mean, it’s not like I’ve never thought about it before, and well,” he cuts himself off with a heaving sigh, lifting his arms for a thoroughly confused Isak to remove his shirt. 

More out of instinct than anything else at this point, Isak grabs the hem of Even’s shirt and slides it up his chest and over his head, entertaining himself with the way his hair seems to bounce from the motion. Unfortunately, this does nothing in the way of explaining what’s going on. Even looks absolutely fine, his pale chest is, for the most part, unblemished, so too is his stomach. Even his nipples are untouched, no shiny new pieces of metal sticking through them, though Isak can’t say that he would complain if there had been. It’s only when Even slides his jeans down his hips a little farther and starts picking at something that Isak notices the light-colored patch stuck to his right hip. It blends in with his skin really well- like really well- and Isak can’t believe that this is the first time he’s noticed it, wonders how long it’s been there without even registering to his oblivious ass. 

But he certainly registers what’s hidden underneath the band-aid when the last of the adhesive holding it in place finally peels off of his boyfriend’s skin. 

There on Even’s hip, written in Isak’s own messy half-cursive half-print handwriting, is his own name in green ink. The k at the end is nestled in the line of the V of his hips, directly in the path that Isak’s tongue travels when he blows him. Rather than the typical dot that Isak tops his ‘i’s with, there’s a delicate 21:21 in its place that’s just a hair crooked, arching up at the tail end, dancing on the verge of veering into verticality. It’s beautiful, it’s dazzling, and the only thing Isak can do as he looks at it is smile one of those eye-crinkling, nose-scrunching smiles that puts all of his gapped teeth on display. A laugh bubbles in his chest as he tries to wrap his head around it. Statistically, it shouldn’t be possible that they both decided to get tattoos of each other’s names at the same time without consulting each other, yet here they are, standing in the middle of their rapidly darkening bedroom, admiring the fresh ink by the light of the dingy lamp in the corner and the street lights outside coming in through the slits of the blinds. 

Of course, they don’t line up perfectly. Isak’s is on his left hip while Even’s is on his right. When they’re face-to-face, the tattoos almost overlap each other, Even’s only a fraction higher than Isak’s. It’s perfectly imperfect and imperfectly perfect. Isak’s heart feels like it’s seconds away from bursting out of his chest to smother Even in affection itself since he doesn’t seem to be capable of doing more than staring at the moment. 

“I was planning on showing it to you for Valentine’s Day,” Even’s saying, running his hand up and down Isak’s catatonic arm. Somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely remembers coming home last week and helping Even ice his side. Guess there’s some light shed on that occurrence now. 

Rational thought finally returning to him, Isak pushes Even back onto the bed, cutting him off when he lands with a chuckled huff. He stalks forward like a predator with its prey in its sight, except with Even watching his every move so intently with a hungry, desperate look in his eyes, Isak’s not sure whether he’s the predator or the prey in this situation. 

When Isak gets close enough, Even wraps his legs around his hips in a weak attempt to pull him down on top of him. The denim of Even’s jeans brushes over his erection ripping a moan from his throat at the feel of the rough fabric against his smooth skin. As tempting as it is to just fall onto his boy and grind against him, giving them the friction they’re both seeking, but there’s something else that he wants to feel pressed up against him even more, and that’s Even’s naked skin. 

Running his hands down Even’s thighs, he follows the long expanse of his legs and unhooks his ankles from where they’re hooked around his waist. Placing Even’s feet back on the floor, he works on unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down in one fluid motion with his boxers, admiring the way Even’s cock springs free, slapping against his stomach with an audible smack. Leaving the pants in a tangled mess on the floor, he crawls onto the bed himself, hovering over the flushed man of his life. 

He is stunning, breathtaking, with or without the name flashing on his hip, following Even’s every movement as he digs his heels in the mattress and pushes himself up from the foot of the bed to the middle, laying spread out for Isak like a god damn feast waiting to be devoured. 

“You’re beautiful,” Isak growls, kissing Even’s belly button. “What do you want?” he asks him, flicking his eyes up to meet Even’s, “I’ll give you anything.”

Cupping his jaw in his hand, Even urges him up so their lips can meet in a passionate kiss. It’s not hurried or sloppy, more of a transference of love, a way to express how much they want each other in a way that’s foolproof where words often fail to be heavy enough.

“Wanna ride you,” Even gasps when they break apart for breath with a pop, lips spit slick and shiny. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah. Let me just-” He leans over and reaches into the drawer of their bedside table, knocking things aside until his fingers close around the half-empty bottle of lube, pulling it out and laying it on the bed near their pillows. 

Repositioning himself between Even’s legs, he grabs the lube and squirts some on his fingers. He’s just beginning to rub it to warm it some when Even grabs his wrist to stop him. “I’m ready.” At Isak’s raised eyebrow, he elaborates. “Got bored earlier, kinda hoped this would happen tonight, so I fingered myself a bit. It’s been a week,” he shrugs, “I missed you.” 

It has been awhile, too long for them, and the thought of Even knowing what he wants and planning on getting it, prepping himself with those long fingers- fingers that Isak had watched all that time ago elegantly sliding into the tissue dispenser, extracting the last remnants of paper and simultaneously sparking a desire in Isak that led to some interesting nights of self-exploration- that thought is ridiculously hot, going straight to Isak’s cock. Hips jutting forward to seek friction against Even’s stomach, he leans down to practically growl into his mouth, “Turn over for me.” 

“What? Why? I already told you, wanna ride you. I’m good, just-” 

Isak licks into his mouth, soothing him. Yeah, it may be true that Even’s stretched and ready for him, and even if he’s not entirely he’s told his boyfriend plenty of times that he enjoys a bit of a stretch when he rides him- something else they have in common- but Isak feels like if he doesn’t do something he’s going to combust, turn into a pile of ashes in the middle of the bed. So, he bites Even’s bottom lip, pulling on it slightly with his teeth before letting it fall back into place and repeats his request, leaving bites and kisses between the words as he travels south. 

“Turn-” A kiss to his swollen and red lips. “Over-” Neck. “For-” Abs, making them jump under the attention. “Me-” Groin, just shy of the base of his cock, which twitches at the proximity and warm breath, damply tapping Isak on the cheek.

Even scrambles onto his stomach, letting Isak suck a hickey on the skin above the swell of his ass once he’s settled. Satisfied with the bruise blossoming on the pale flesh, Isak moves on to palm at his ass cheeks, pulling them apart and licking a hot stripe from his balls to the top of his ass, catching over his rim. He repeats the motion two more times, delighting in Even’s muffled whines. On the third ministration, he points his tongue, dipping it into Even’s hole. He works his tongue into Even’s body with little resistance, alternating between eating him out and nipping at the flesh of his ass gently.

He tastes like sweat and strawberries due to the lube they use for special occasions, which is admittedly more often than not. On a particularly hard thrust with his tongue, Even clenches around his tongue, lifting his hips up to push his ass further in Isak’s face, punching a moan out of him that vibrates against Even’s skin, pulling a groan from him as well. Wiggling his finger in beside his tongue, licking it as it slides into his boy, he expertly finds Even’s prostate, massaging relentlessly against the bundle of nerves. 

What can he say, he gets immense amounts of pleasure out of the knowledge that he can play Even’s body like a god damn fiddle. His free hand runs down Even’s spine, feeling the way his muscles tense and relax under his palm. When it reaches his ass, he swirls it over the purple love bite he’d left there earlier, the sweat gathering in the small of Even’s back making it easier to slide his fingers over his skin smoothly. 

“Isak,” Even gasps, hips rubbing against the blue-gray duvet underneath him then lifting back to Isak, stuttering irregularly as he tries to seek both sensations, unsure of which is better. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come,” he pants.

“I thought that was the idea,” Isak chuckles, but moves back after pressing one last sloppy kiss to Even’s fluttering rim. 

“True,” Even says, voice rough, “but not like that it’s not. I need to feel you inside me first, all of you, filling me up.” 

“Jesus,” Isak says both at the suggestive words that travel straight to his dick and to the sting of pain as Even flips them over, accidentally knocking Isak’s head into the wall at the head of the bed. 

“Sorry,” he winces with his boy, leaning down to place a soothing kiss to his temple, lips sticking to some of the curls sticking to his forehead. Giving Isak a sheepish smile, he wiggles around on his lap, locating the lube where it was discarded at the top of the sheets, almost hidden underneath a light gray pillow. 

Grabbing it, Even squeezes a decent amount in his palm. He moves so he’s sitting on Isak’s thighs and slicks his cock, twisting his wrist exquisitely and thumbing over the head with each stroke. Like Isak, Even knows his boyfriend’s body inside and out, all his little quirks and kinks, and sitting on his thighs looking completely debauched already while jerking him off is kinda hitting a lot of them, especially when he lifts his hand and sucks a bead of Isak’s precome from his own thumb. He completely understands his boy’s earlier plight with not coming too early. 

Grabbing Even’s wrist, he places a loving kiss to the palm, while Even lifts onto his knees, positioning himself over Isak’s cock with an excited sparkle twinkling in his ocean eyes like the stars reflecting on the waves as they ripple. Slowly, he starts sinking down on Isak. They ditched condoms a few months ago when they were both tested and decided that they would rather feel as much skin on skin as physically possible, which isn’t really surprising considering Isak soaks up affection like he’s a sponge and Even’s his water. As for Even, he’s always been a physical person, best expressing his feelings in touch, and his feelings for Isak are a tidal wave of strength and devotion. 

When he bottoms out, he takes a moment to adjust, breathing warm and flushed in Isak’s lap like a god damn piece of art work on display just for him. Eyes fluttering shut, eyelashes gracing over his cheekbones, Isak realizes for the millionth time just how fucking beautiful Even is. 

“C’mere,” Isak begs nonsensically. They’re already as close as they can get physically get, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough until he can find a way to crawl inside Even’s body, curl up and live in his heart forever. 

Regardless, Even comes closer. Sealing his lips over Isak’s, he licks into his mouth, tongue tracing his lips, teeth, his own tongue in a secret dance only known by the two of them. Slowly, Even starts lazily rocking his hips in little circle eight motions while kissing him, letting out a whimper that Isak swallows greedily, echoing with a murmured moan of his own. 

He pulls back, a thin line of saliva connecting their lips together that dissolves when Even pecks his lips again while grabbing something from the edge of the bed that Isak registers in a flash of red. When Even sits back straight, he sees what it is as he places the red snapback on his head backwards, the washed out red a dull color compared to the vibrant flush spreading from Even’s cheeks down his neck to his chest.

“A cowboy needs a hat,” he explains with a smirk, raising up and sinking back down onto Isak’s cock, breathing stuttering a little as he sets up a rhythm, eyes rolling back a little when Isak arches his hips to meet him on a particularly hard thrust. Before Even, Isak never believed that that happened, always thought it was an exaggeration in porn and novels. Now, he not only has plenty of evidence that it does in fact happen, but he’s also experienced it firsthand himself multiple times. 

“You’re the hottest cowboy I’ve ever seen,” Isak pants, watching Even bounce in his lap, his cock bobbing against his stomach with every up and down motion. 

“Di-ditto,” Even stutters around a moan, winking at him with both eyes, blowing him a kiss. “Shit,” he gasps, losing his leverage as his hand slides down Isak’s chest, falling forward at the spike of pleasure as the new angle allows Isak’s cock to hit his prostate head on. “Right there, baby.” 

“God, you feel so good. Fuck,” Isak curses, digging his heels into the mattress to better thrust into Even, taking some of the work from Even’s thighs that must be burning by now, trembling under Isak’s hands as he scratches his nails down the red, blotchy skin. He rubs his fingers over his name on Even’s hip, his heart fluttering even faster at the sight, the reminder that he’s Even’s and Even’s his. 

He grabs onto Even’s hand that’s at his side, lacing their fingers together and holding on tight. There’s sparks shooting up and down his spine, traveling from his scalp to his toes like his body is the night sky on the Fourth of July, filled with fireworks exploding in vibrant colors and shapes. His mind is filled with nothing but Even, Even, Even as they take each other apart in the best way possible, the other boy sucking on his neck and chest, any available skin that’s within reach really while Isak’s finger dig into his hips, his back, leaving scratches and finger-shaped bruises that he knows Even will admire for days after. It’s another one of their shared kinks. They both love getting marked up as much as they love leaving marks behind, a tangible reminder of their love. 

Judging by the high-pitched whines and moans Even’s emitting, he’s getting close, and so is Isak, but for some fucking reason Even’s stopping, holding his hips steady and flush against Isak’s. He wants to groan in exasperation because is he seriously getting cock blocked right now, when he hears Even’s deep voice rumbling above him, followed by a hand lightly tapping against his cheek to get his attention. He wasn’t even aware that he had shut his eyes. 

When he opens them, he finds his boy looking down at him, holding his phone in one hand with the camera open and ready to go. “I can’t get the angle right, baby,” he pleads, handing the contraption to Isak who takes it with an exaggerated but fond roll of his eyes. Only Even could stop in the middle of sex to get the perfect picture of their tattoos lined up, shiny with sweat and precome.

Isak holds the phone out a little ways from their bodies, craning his neck to the side to actually be able to see what he’s about to snap a picture of. It looks pretty good to him, focused on the two names, blue and green, Even and Isak. It’s focused on the tattoos, but Even’s dick is visible off to the side as are his legs splayed lewdly on either side of Isak. Anybody who saw the picture would have no trouble identifying exactly what’s happening. Isak snaps the picture. 

Just for the hell of it, he takes a few extras from different angles, including one without any private material- just the tattoos- that he knows will be Even’s lockscreen image for the next month because he’s romantic and sappy like that. Not so secretly, Isak plans on sending one of the pictures to his own phone later to do the same. 

Before dropping the phone carelessly back onto the sheets, he makes a last minute executive decision to snap a picture of Even sitting in his lap, long torso on display, hair wild and sticking out from underneath his snapback every-which-way. He looks delicious, like a god damn snack, and it’s all for Isak. 

Even snatches the phone from Isak, raises up on his knees, and takes a picture of his own. It’s upside down, but the image is clear. He’s taken a shot directly between his legs, Isak’s dick visible as it slides into him, his own dick twitching at the idea is slightly blurred. 

“For your files,” he says with a wicked grin, eyebrows raised in that cocky amused way that Isak loves. 

The laugh it shocks out of Isak jostles Even on his lap, causing both of them to moan, and just as quickly as they detoured they’re back in action with renewed fervor. Isak has a hand wrapped around Even’s dick, stroking him off while the other hand is behind his back, massaging the place where they’re connected, simultaneously rubbing Even’s rim and his own cock as he thrusts into him. Even, on the other hand, has his hand wrapped tightly around Isak’s bicep almost cutting off the circulation with the fingers of his other hand digging into his own name on Isak’s hip. 

The only sound in the room is the slap of skin mixing with a litany of curses and pleas, endearments and promises. It’s all fuck and right there please and you look so fucking good like this, like you were made for me, baby. I’m yours and you’re mine and I love you. Always I love you. Until all the words are bleeding together, but it doesn’t matter whose mouth they’re spilling from because it’s all true regardless. 

When they come it’s with each other’s name dripping from their mouths like honey on a warm summer day. It takes some time before they come back to themselves, laying in a mess on top of each other, foreheads pressed together, sweet nothings being mumbled into ears and against lips, but once they come to they clean up with the roll of toilet paper they keep beside the bed, deeming it too late and too much of a waste of time to get in the shower now. 

Instead, they wrap up in each other, Isak laying across Even’s chest, his armed wrapped around him to pull him in closer. Isak kisses his neck right above his pulse point, feeling the thrum of Even’s heartbeat nudging against his lips. It may be a simple thing but that doesn’t mean it’s not the most important thing in Isak’s life because it signifies that his boy is in fact alive and here with him. 

“Where did you get it done?” Even asks, skimming his fingers down Isak’s side from where he’d been tracing around the heart shaped hickey he’d sucked directly over Isak’s heart to the tattoo, making it clear what he’s talking about. 

“Tiger City Tattoo,” he supplies, stifling a yawn and catching Even’s fingers with his own, brushing them against his lips before bringing their clasped hands up to rest together on Even’s bare stomach. 

“Me too,” he says. With his free hand he brushes some stray hairs back from Isak’s forehead, twirling one of the curls around his finger loosely. He squints his eyes, “Did you get it done by some guy who kept talking in-”

“Sexual innuendos?” Isak fills in. 

“Yes!” Even laughs. “I thought I was the only one. It was so fucking creepy and weird.” 

“Right?! Magnus was like offended on your behalf because of it.”

“Seriously?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up looking impressed and a little touched at the gesture. “Ugh, I wish someone would’ve been offended for you. All I got was Elias wondering if Eskild would wanna get matching tattoos, Mikael filming me for the You Tube channel for a video about things couples do for Valentine’s Day, and Mutta dragging Adam off to get his nose pierced.” 

Isak laughs. “So, that’s why Mutta had his nose pierced, I was wondering. If it makes you feel any better, in addition to be outraged that the tattoo guy was talking to your man that way he also had a fake sword fight with Mahdi using the piercing needles.” 

“You know what, that actually does make me feel better. What’s wrong with our friends?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Isak promises, chuckling. 

They lapse into a comfortable silence, soaking up the warmth and comfort each has to offer.

“Thank you for today,” Even says, breaking the silence with a whisper full of gratitude and love.

“Of course,” Isak replies. “Happy birthday, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Even breathes. 

Isak sighs, snuggling in closer to his boy. “I’m really glad that you’re here.” 

He says it so low that Even almost doesn’t catch it. But he does, and it makes his breath catch in his throat. He thinks about where he was not even two years ago, about all the other parallel universes out there, ones where he hasn’t met Isak yet, ones where they met but lost each other, ones where they might not meet at all until they reach the afterlife, joining together for the first time in a lighter place but shaped by years of cruelty and loneliness. He thinks about how lucky he is to have found his heart beat outside of his body, a home that isn’t a home but a curly haired boy who’s sometimes grumpy but always soft. Isak’s happy that he’s here, and as it turns out… 

“So am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! 
> 
> In case you didn't know: the Taylor Swift song referenced was Call It What You Want, the movie/book referenced was Call Me By Your Name, and the name of the tattoo parlor was taken from the end of the music video for Naked by Matilda. 
> 
> hmu on tumblr at misspanicdead


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